The Cruelest Month Of All

It's still with me, though I'm improved. The Girl was examined by our pediatrician as she still throws up everything. The doc prescribed Zofran to keep her from doing that anymore and though she is mildly dehydrated she's not to the point of needing an IV.

The problem with a 22 month old who's sick is they can't be contained. They just get sick wherever they happen to be. So the house now has an odor that can't be described, but no doubt has hindered our recovery. Her blowout yesterday led to my additional output. Thanks kid. We're hoping we have it under control now and things will begin to improve for all of us.

The Boy apparently has a cast-iron stomach. He alone remains unaffected. Stud.

In the "no good deed goes unpunished" department, the saintly neighbors that watched the kids whilst my mate was hospitalized are now paying for their kindness with the same bug. At this rate the neighborhood may soon be filled with the sounds of wretching.

And the topper? As I made the Boy's dinner last night while my wife and daughter were at the doc's, the combination of his food and my olfactory sensitivity to the Girl's deposits set me off and in my rush to get to the sink I slipped. My hand grasped the counter to save me, but in doing so I believe I reinjured the wrist that so recently was surgically repaired. It is astonishingly painful and my stomach is not allowing me to take any kind of pain reliever. It has taken me 45 minutes just to type this.

The month of December is the cruelest month of all.